


Art / Words: Snow White and The Seven Knights

by LFB72



Series: Merlin Fairy Tales [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Art, Choking, Colour Pencils, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kiss of Life, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Mirrors, Mutual Pining, Poison, Snow White Elements, Temporary Character Death, Traditional Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 02:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72
Summary: An illustrated 'Merlin' version of Snow White:Queen Nimueh asks her magic mirror, 'who is the greatest sorcerer in the land?' She discovers it is none other than Merlin, the step-son, she despises. She attempts to murder him but Merlin escapes, taking refuge in a ramshackle cottage in the woods. The cottage belongs to band of merry knights and whilst Merlin tries to keeps secrets and hopes the enigmatic leader of the group, Arthur, will notice him Nimueh plots his demise.





	Art / Words: Snow White and The Seven Knights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rotrude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/gifts).



> For the lovely Rotrude, this was meant to be a birthday present but it took a little longer than expected. Last year I did a Merlin version of Cinderella and you seemed to like that, so I thought I would try my hand at another fairy tale. I wanted to try and do something light and fluffy and silly as I know you've had a tough year. You give so much to the fandom with your wonderful stories, this is just a little thank you to say how much I appreciate your hard work.  
> Many thanks to Tari_Sue and Clea2011 for reading through and correcting all my mistakes - if there are any left that's down to me they did a fabulous job.

**Snow White and the Seven knights**

Nimueh smoothed out her crimson dress, tossed her long, dark hair over her slender shoulders and admired her reflection in the enchanted looking glass.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the greatest sorcerer of them all?” she demanded in a haughty voice.

The High Priestess examined her nails as she waited for the reply she knew so well.

 _`You are, my queen,’_ she mouthed to herself, smiling.

“Emrys.”

 _“What?_ ”

“Emrys is the greatest magic user ever to walk the earth.”

Nimueh hesitated, this was not the answer she had expected, nevertheless, she had to be sure.

“I am Emrys?” 

“No my queen, you are very powerful, there is no denying that, but there is one whose magic eclipses even yours and he grows stronger by the day.”

This came as a bit of a shock. Nimueh had heard of prophesied Emrys, of course she had, those basket-weaving druids were always banging on about it; how Emrys was to rule with the once and future king and bring magic back to the land. She’d never put much stock in their flowery witterings, or at the very least she had assumed that the prophecy had already been fulfilled and referred to herself.

 _Was she not a High Priestess, married to a Magical King and Dragonlord? Balinor could not be stronger than her, surely?_ He was never in the kingdom, he had left her in charge whilst he was too busy questing on that bloody annoying dragon and moping after his first dreary, but dead, wife. Maybe he had changed his mind, perhaps he was coming back to rule. 

“Balinor?” She hissed

“No, my lady his son, Snow White.”

“ _Merlin!”_ She shrieked, “Merlin, my scrawny stepson? He is more powerful than me?”

She had refused to call Balinor’s brat that ridiculous name his late mother had given him. So, what if the boy’s hair was black as ebony, his skin white as snow and his pouty lips were rosy red. She hated him. He was called Merlin after the pathetic bird he was so fond of.

“Yes, my queen, the boy is Emrys.”

This would never do. This demanded drastic action. The people loved him. He was eighteen and almost of age and if those Druids got wind of it they would be waving their tambourines and declaring him the new messiah. They’d get word to Balinor somehow and the king would not be happy at the way she had treated his son and heir. 

She stormed towards the door and wrenched it open. 

“Guards! Get me Mordred” 

Merlin became aware he was being stared at. He glanced over the courtyard and there was a short male with brown curly hair – Mordred. Mordred with those cold icy-blue eyes. The boy was only a couple of years younger than himself but he gave Merlin the creeps. He did not know what it was, but Merlin did not trust him. 

Mordred did not speak much, he insisted on using that telepathy thing the druids were so fond of. It freaked Merlin out the first time he heard voices in his head. Especially when they insisted on calling him Emrys and started bowing. He was called Merlin, well not technically, he was called Snow White but everyone knew him as Merlin. 

_“Emrys!”_

Mordred’s man crush was getting embarrassing. Merlin pretended he could not hear.

 _“Emrys!”_ the voice demanded, louder this time making Merlin jump. He could hardly shout across the cobblestones, so he answered in the same way – mind speak:

_“What is it, Mordred?”_

_“Come with me into the woods.”_

_“I’d really rather not.”_

Truth be told, Merlin did not want to spend any time alone with Mordred, the teenager followed him round like a lost puppy and it had only got worse since the queen made Mordred one of her magic guards.

_I’ve got chores to do. Her majesty will be mad at me if I don’t finish.”_

_“Please, Emrys, It’s important.”_

_“I can’t, Mordred—”_

_“It’s to do with magic, I can’t show you here.”_

Merlin loved magic, he had it himself, festooned with it, he was – it flowed through his veins like a rampaging river in constant need of an outlet. The queen, forbade him to use it or to even perform little tricks for the local children. She did not appear to mind other people using magic but punished Merlin if he so much as made a dancing fire-dragon. 

The prince could not understand why. His step-mother had magic herself, as did many in the kingdom. She told him he was vain and showing off and he needed to learn some humility and demanded he work as a servant so he should know how the poor feel. It would be important for when he eventually became king.

Merlin had no desire to be king. His father was hale and hearty and should rule for a long time, not that Balinor had an active role in running the kingdom, He was off questing somewhere. A fair-minded king but an absent one – Merlin had not seen him in years.

_“Emrys.”_

Sneaking off to the woods to practice the craft was very appealing even if it was with morose Mordred. Merlin could handle himself.

_“Alright, give me half an hour.”_

Morded nodded, then slipped back into the shadows.

Mordred led Merlin deep into the forest. It was getting dark and if they were to perform some magic and get back to the castle it was getting rather late. Merlin had a horrible feeling Mordred had other plans. 

“This will do,” said Mordred, stopping so abruptly Merlin nearly careered into the back of him.

Merlin was surprised that Mordred had chosen to speak aloud. 

Mordred turned around slowly, his eyes flashed gold and Merlin was blasted against a tree. 

When he came to, Merlin’s wrists were encased in iron cuffs and Mordred was leaning over him. The blade of a dagger was pressed to Merlin’s heart, cutting into his skin through the fabric of his tunic.

Mordred’s face was red and blotchy, tears streaked his cheeks.

“She wants you dead.” Mordred’s voice trembled. “I have to cut out your heart and bring it to her as proof.”

 _Damn it. That’s put us in a bit of a pickle,_ thinks Merlin.

He clears his throat, buying time.

“Why haven’t you, Mordred?” Merlin croaked, looking his captor directly in the eye. He’d thought the younger man had been infatuated with him, not planning his murder. _How wrong he’d been,_ still, Mordred had not gone through with it yet, and he’d had every opportunity, maybe there was time to change his mind. “What has she promised you?”

Merlin did not need to clarify who had given these orders he knew the queen hated him.

Mordred looked away. “She said you’re Emrys.”

“That’s what the druids call me, what you call me… What does that even mean?”

Mordred wiped the tears from his eyes. Clearing his throat he looked skyward. “You’re the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth, your destiny is to work with the once and future king and unite the whole of Albion to bring magic back to all the kingdoms not just this one.”

Well, that explained why his stepmother wanted him out of the way but druids were renowned for their peaceful ways – they deplored violence – well, most of them did.

“I thought that’s what the druids wanted.”

Mordred nodded sadly. “It is.”

“Then—”

“We all know the prophecy, we’re taught it from birth. When I met you, I knew it was true; I could feel the power radiating off you in waves”.

Mordred got up and started to pace. 

The iron around Merlin’s wrists cut the flow of his magic, holding it back like a dam and he was helpless without it. If he really was the greatest sorcerer to ever live he was certainly not living up to his reputation. He was floundering on the floor spitting dead leaves from his lips and pleading for his life and yet the blade was now far from his heart and the longer it stayed that way the more hope Merlin felt. 

He could turn the situation to his advantage, he was sure of it. “I don’t want it. I never asked for this, my father is king, a good king. Let me go, I’ll just live here in the forest. I won't be any trouble”

Mordred shook his head. “I can’t do that.” He looked wretched.

“Why? If you’ve known this for so long, what’s changed now?” 

“My role in it.” Mordred snorted. “It’s not everyday you find out it’s your destiny to be a murderer.”

Merlin felt an involuntary chill and could not help the shudder that passed through his system. “I don’t understand.”

“There is a second part to the prophecy, a part they don’t tell us.” He turned to Merlin now. “I destroy it all… I kill The Once and Future King.”

“She told you this?” 

Mordred nodded. “The mirror showed me. It has to tell the truth, it is enchanted. She said if I can kill one king at the height of his power, bring Albion tumbling to its knees, why not kill the dream before it begins. It is my destiny to be a murderer so what difference does it make which king I choose to kill?” 

Merlin’s head spun, this was a lot to take in. “Choice makes all the difference, Mordred.” He reasoned. “You are not just a cog in a wheel, you have free will. You were only shown a possible future, one of many – it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“My father was dismissive of prophecies, he said they did not predict the death of his wife, my mother. All the magic in his kingdom, all that power he possessed and he could not save her. He told me he’d known men get lost in places like the crystal cave trying to foretell the future, that the enchanted mirror my stepmother is so infatuated with was dangerous and he was going to find a way to destroy it.” 

Mordred stopped. He looked at the dagger. “If I killed myself, I could not kill you.”

“No, Mordred.”

“It would stop her.”

“Maybe, but she would send someone else, your sacrifice would be for nothing. You are in charge of your own destiny, Mordred, not her, not some magical mirror and certainly not some a prophecy.”

Merlin bowed his head. He was exhausted. 

He heard the click of the spring as the cuffs fell from his wrists. The push from the released magic was dizzying; it pulsed through his body, overwhelming his system. It hurt. The magic tingled and stung as it found its equilibrium, when it finally settled and his head stopped spinning he turned to Mordred.

“Thank you.” 

_“No, Thank you Emrys, forgive me.”_

“There is nothing to forgive.”

_I won’t let you down again.”_

Mordred knelt briefly at Merlin’s feet, then he got up and extended his hand, pulling Merlin into a standing position.

_“I will take the heart of a boar to our queen, it will buy you some time but she will no doubt find out you are still alive and she will be angry. Take care, Emrys, trust no one – the queen has spies everywhere. She will be looking for someone with magic – keep it hidden, keep it safe.”_

Then he was gone. Merlin was left alone, alone but alive.

Merlin had wandered through the forest all night, not even stopping to sleep. He’d half expected to hear horses charging after him, guards sent to finish what Mordred could not but there had been nothing. He’d not needed to use his magic overtly but its presence bubbling under his skin had been a sense of comfort. 

Dawn had been a few hours ago and he needed to find somewhere to rest.

He came upon a ramshackle cottage, the door was shut but it did not take much to get it open. The place was in a right state and Merlin could not decide if it was abandoned or just poorly maintained.

It was quite big inside, with plenty of room. He used his magic to tidy up. No one would see. Perhaps when the owner got back and saw the place spotless they would let him stay the night, just a little while until he could work out where to go. He’d told Mordred he’d stay in the forest but it was not an ideal solution. One of the other kingdoms would be a better option. Maybe not Camelot as the king there was supposed to be an antimagic tyrant but there had to be somewhere he could go.

Merlin sat on one of the beds intending to rest only briefly before going outside to wait for the occupants return. He fell asleep.

Six men approached the cottage. 

“Someone’s been here,” said their leader. 

“Someone has swept up,” marvelled a large man with no sleeves.

“Someone has eaten one of my apples,” said a man with long hair and a roguish smile.

“And someone is sleeping on my bed!” said an angry blond man with a sword.

For the second time in twenty four hours, Merlin woke up with a blade pressed into his skin. 

“Hello.” He waved, trying to smile in a disarming way.

“State your business.” 

The tip of his sword dug against Merlin’s throat. The man’s arm was steady, it was a well-toned arm – as was the rest of him, firm, and nicely proportioned. In addition to the flaxen locks, he had bright blue eyes, a noble nose and rosy cheeks.

“My name is Merlin. I bid you no harm,” he said feebly

There was a derisory snort at this, “I could take you apart in one blow.”

 _‘And I could take you apart in less than that’_ thought Merlin, but he was supposed to be keeping his magic a secret and he had just waltzed into their abode and promptly fallen asleep on one of their beds so he could understand them being a bit tetchy.

“I thought if I tidied up a bit, you may let me stay for a while. I have nowhere else to go.”

The sword wavered a little. “What of your home, your parents?”

“There is no place for me. My mother is dead, my father… is gone. I am eighteen and have to make my own way in the world.”

The sword was withdrawn and re-sheathed. “We have not got much, you will have to contribute in some way, if you want to stay here. Do you hunt?”

“I can clean.”

“May the gods have mercy.” 

“The place does look better,” one of the other unfeasibly good looking men admitted. “It would be nice to have someone else for you to pick on, Arthur.”

Arthur scowled. “Very well. You can stay, if you continue to tidy up.”

“So, you are knights?” Merlin guessed. The men all wore chainmail and armour, all muscular to various degrees and had a certain, deportment.

“Dwarves,” declared the man with longish swishy hair. “I’m Gwaine, by the way.” He smiled and winked at Merlin.

“Aren't you a bit big for a dwarf?” Merlin said in disbelief pointing at the largest of the group. His shirt had no sleeves and he stood at least 6‘4”.

“Camelot dwarves! Percival doesn’t count, his mother was a giant.” 

“Take no notice,” said another tall man with reddish-hair and a beard. “Gwaine likes to joke.”

“You’re no fun, Leon.” 

“I’m Elyan,” a handsome dark-skinned man supplied.

“Do you fight?” Arthur interrupted, tossing a wooden sword towards Merlin, which he promptly dropped. 

Merlin hesitated, of course he could fight with magic but not in the conventional sense, he couldn’t wield sword – he’d never had any need too. Now would be the opportunity to come clean about who he was and what he could do but Merlin stayed silent. Trust no one.

Arthur tutted and gave Merlin a pitiful look.

“Hit people with the pointy end?” Merlin offered, picking up the sword

Arthur bit his lip, looked skyward and snatched the practice sword from Merlin’s hands storming out the door. 

“That was Grumpy” Gwaine motioned to the departing figure.

“Don’t be hard on him, Gwaine, you know he is finding this difficult.” A man with olive skin, dark wavy hair and dreamy brown eyes turned toward Merlin, extending his hand. “I’m Lancelot and we’re not really dwarves. We're former knights of Camelot in exile. Arthur is our leader, his father, King Uther Pendragon discovered Morgana, Arthur’s half sister had magic and he did not like it. We got her and her lady in waiting, Guinevere out of the city.

Two women appeared in the doorway. One with long black hair in a plait and chain-mail, the other with dark skin and curly hair. Both had ruddy cheeks from exercise and they were beautiful. They wore trousers and looked ready for battle.

Arthur Pendragon. Even Merlin had heard of him, but he’d thought the prince was as opposed to magic as Uther was, evidently he was wrong.

“Arthur is alright with magic then?” He asked.

The woman in chainmail, laughed. “He’s getting used to it.” She had a stern face, stunningly attractive but Merlin got the feeling he would not want to cross her.

“My name is Morgana, this is Gwen. Nice job you’ve done here,” she said looking around and appraising the now spotless cottage. She reached out and touched Merlin’s hand and it was all he could do not to jump back as he felt her magic fizz against his skin.

“You’ve got Arthur all hot and bothered.” She smiled. “Having you around will be fun, far too many strutting peacocks in here.” 

All these people were gorgeous, Merlin wondered what they must make of him, with his long legs and his gangly arms encased in a bright blue tunic with puff sleeves. He guessed his clothes looked a bit odd compared to the chain-mail and swords – magical folk were sometimes a bit flamboyant in their colour choices. To be honest, he was just glad they would let him stay.

Merlin settled into a routine, the six knights and the ladies Morgana and Gwen would go off each day sparing and hunting and he tidied up after everyone. He did not mind, it gave him time to practise his magic. Sometimes in the evening he’d watch them fight and he surreptitiously used his magic when Arthur seemed to be getting a bit cocky. Arthur was a born leader and quite reasonable under all the bravado – he never looked at Merlin and Merlin sometimes wished he would, as he found his own gaze inexplicably drawn to the blond prince.

Merlin’s good fortune was not to last. The queen soon discovered he was still alive on consulting her faithful mirror. Since Mordred’s failure and subsquent disapearance she did not trust Merlin’s demise to anyone but herself and set off to murder her insufferable stepson. 

He was not difficult to find. Merlin’s magic was like a beacon in the dark, a lighthouse guiding the way. A simple glamour and she’d transformed herself into a peddler woman selling scarves. She knew Merlin was a sucker for a sob story so she laid it on thick.

When Merlin could not buy from her as he had no money she used a different tactic. “This red scarf would really bring out the colour of your eyes. Would make a special someone notice you.” She said. 

Merlin wavered at this. 

Triumphant at hitting a nerve, she put the next step into action. “Here, why don’t you try it on? Let me tie it for you.”

The witch secured the neckerchief, just that little bit to tight knowing the magical garment would, in time, choke Merlin. 

She walked away, smiling and saying she would leave it to him as a gift.

By the time the knights returned, Merlin had collapsed on the floor. They could not undo the knot on his scarf and had to cut it off. Merlin sported a huge ligature mark but he was alive and breathing.

Arthur chastised Merlin for being so stupid, and _‘what could have possibly possessed him to tie the neckerchief so tight?’_ but Leon and Lancelot both looked thoughtful and did not attribute Merlin’s misfortune to his clumsiness as Arthur clearly did.

[ ](https://imgur.com/lcYI24f)

The next attempt on Merlin’s life was a week later. The witch was selling combs. 

The vendor mentioned how unkempt Merlin’s mop of black curls were and how a simple brush could work wonders. The comb’s teeth were poisonous of course and stuck in Merlin’s scalp. Again he fell to the ground unconscious. 

Nimueh skipped out the door, cackling to herself. She did not even notice the knight coming the other way.

Arthur had returned to the cottage to retrieve his sword and was shocked to see Merlin sprawled on the floor. He raced forward, pulling the man to his chest, he saw the comb and wrenched it out, smashing it with his boot. 

Merlin came to in Arthur’s arms but far from a romantic fantasy, the prince looked livid.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, getting all red in the face. “That’s twice you’ve been unconscious, what if I’d not come back, you could have died!” 

Merlin had to admit it was suspicious. “I didn't know you cared!” Merlin quipped feebly, trying to distract.

“Care! _Of course I bloody care_. You live in my house, you're my responsibility, under my protection!”

So Arthur _did_ care for Merlin and it was the same way he cared for all his subjects. That was fair, that was Arthur. Was it so wrong of Merlin to have hoped for more? 

Fed up of keeping secrets, Merlin finally wants to tell the truth. His mere existence is putting others in danger and he can’t have that.

“I was running away from someone and now they have followed me here. I’ll leave, I should not have got you all involved.”

“I am already involved, Merlin.”

“You don’t understand, she will stop at nothing to kill me and I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. I’m a knight.”

“She’s a witch!”

“What’s her name?”

“Nimueh,” he said, resigned. 

“The High Priestess?”

“You know of her?” Merlin answered, surprised.

Arthur, let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his head. “ _She_ is the reason my father hates magic.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My mother had trouble conceiving, they sought help from Nimueh, she neglected to tell them the price of my birth would be the death of another. My mother died shortly after I was born and my father declared war on all that possessed magic.”

Merlin had heard some of the rumours surrounding Camelot as he was growing up. The mad, magic-hating king that ruled there. He knew nothing of what had sparked it all off. Merlin reached over and tentatively touched Arthur’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” 

“I was taught to hate magic – it wasn’t difficult, it killed my mother. The kingdom was under constant attack, although I didn't know what had started it all. Then I found out what my father did.” Arthur’s voice wobbled slightly. “My father used magic to get a son when he already had an illegitimate daughter, Morgana. To top it all, she had magic!”

Arthur through back his head a laughed. He laughed until he had to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Morgana is with you.”

“Yes, she’s my sister, I don’t have to _like_ that she has magic but that is who she is. Morgana is my blood and I can’t turn my back on that.”

Merlin knew he was a bit in love then, even if Arthur did not feel the same way.

“Nimeuh’s my mother.”

“What!” Arthur slapped the floor with his hands.

“Stepmother. My real mother died many years ago, my father remarried, it was a political thing – he didn't love her. He was a powerful dragon lord, she was High Priestess. Father liked to quest so he left her in charge – I don’t think he realised what she was really like.” Merlin shrugged.

Arthur’s brow creased. “So if she’s already in charge, why does she want you dead? Is it because you’re not magical?”

Merlin snorted and blushed at the same time. “Quite the contrary actually, I’m more powerful than she is.”

 _“What?_ Then why are you even _here?_ Why aren't you fighting her, taking back your kingdom?” Arthur shouted waving his arms about in frustration.

“What, like you?” Merlin snapped.

“That’s different. My father is still alive.”

“So is mine.”

“For all his faults he is still my father. I can’t go to war.” Arthur looked away, “Morgana does not agree of course. She thinks we should usurp him, join forces with her half sister but the cost, Merlin. The people of Camelot, my people they would get caught in the crossfire.”

Merlin would have said more, but the rest of the group returned at that point. 

[ ](https://imgur.com/Oqkku8I)

The knights were reluctant to leave Merlin after that. Merlin said Nimueh was magic and she needed to be fought with magic and the knights would be useless against her. Morgana had said she would fight, but Merlin had argued she was still learning, which led to Morgana flouncing off and slamming the door behind her.

Merlin was adamant that he would be ready for Nimeuh this time. That if he was really as powerful as she feared him to be, then surely he could defeat her. 

The weeks passed and nothing happened. The weeks turn to months.

Morgana got better at magic; Merlin taught her what he knew. The knights trained for a battle that seemed inevitable but Arthur kept putting off. Merlin waited; he waited for a showdown with Nimueh that did not happen. Perhaps she believed he was dead but unless the magic mirror was destroyed it seemed unlikely. 

Arthur was distant, always polite but cold. Merlin never seemed to be able to catch Arthur alone. That closeness and connection they shared months ago never repeated and Merlin mourned the loss of something he never really had. He wondered if he should have kept quiet about the magic.

When the witch did strike, Merlin was not prepared. She came as an old woman selling apples. 

Merlin had been working on his magic all day and was tired and hungry. The sweet smell of fresh juicy apple was appealing. His first thought upon seeing a basket of them was of Gwaine; the long-haired knight had a near obsession with the fruit and was always munching an apple. Merlin thought it would be nice to get some for him and the others.

“Why don’t you taste one?” said the old woman, holding up the crimson fruit as if it were a prize jewel. 

Merlin hesitated.

“Here,” she said slipping a knife from the folds of her skirt and slicing the apple in two. She bit into it, juice rolling down her chin and offered the other half to Merlin.

It would seem rude not too, so he took it and bit into the creamy flesh. It tasted sour and Merlin immediately wanted to spit it out but the piece had lodged in his throat.

He could not breathe. He clawed at the laces of his tunic, fighting for air. The room spun and black spots flashed before his eyes. He thought he heard laughter and could just make out the blurred image of Nimueh before falling to the floor.

Nimeuh towered over Merlin. “Such a stupid boy,” she cooed. “Did you really think you could get the better of me?” She gave his torso a good kick with the heel of her shoe before sauntering out the door. “Good bye, Emrys, not so high and mighty after all.”

 _‘I never got the chance to tell Arthur how I feel.’_ That thought caused more pain than the poisoned apple lodged in his throat. Such a physical hurt was nothing to the regret of lost chances. Merlin pictured the prince with his crooked smile and golden locks holding his sword aloft, victorious in some future battle – if it was the last thing he saw it was a good image to die to.

Arthur ran. He did not care about the thorn bushes and plants as they snagged on his clothes and scratched his skin. He ploughed straight through the forest taking the shortest possible route back to Merlin.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He felt it, he could not explain why, but he knew beyond any doubt that Merlin was in danger.

He could see the cottage ahead, the door was open and a basket of upturned apples was strewn upon the floor.

His chest hurt and his legs were burning but Arthur pushed harder, falling to his knees as he made it to the door.

Merlin was prone on the floor. Arthur rolled him over. Merlin’s his cheeks white as snow and his lips were cyanosed. Arthur frantically searched for a pulse his fingers pressing against Merlin’s neck but he felt nothing, no strum of blood. Merlin’s skin was cold as ice his chest still.

“NO!” Arthur screamed. “No.” he banged his fists repeatedly into the floor.

He heard a gasp and turned to see Guinevere and Morgana in the doorway. Gwen had covered her mouth with her hands.

“He’s dead!” cried Arthur. 

“No, it can’t be.”

Arthur looked at his sister. “Is there nothing you can do?”

Morgana shook her head. “I’m sorry, if his soul has gone, magic cannot bring it back again.”

“Wait! The kiss of life!” Gwen shouted.

Arthur tentatively knelt down and pressed his lips against Merlin’s.

Nothing happened.

“It did not work!”

“No, the literal kiss of life: CPR, Cardiopulmonary resuscitation.”

The prince tentatively tilted Merlin’s head back with trembling hands, he pinched Merlin’s nose and made a seal with his mouth, blowing air into Merlin’s lungs.

He pulled away. “There’s an obstruction.”

“Quick, roll him onto his side and hit him between his shoulder blades,” instructed Gwen.

Arthur slapped Merlin on the back, until his whole body shook. It was no good. 

“He’s gone.”

The other knights came into the room and formed a circle around Arthur where he cradled Merlin in his arms. The prince pressed his lips into ebony curls and let his tears flow. “I’m so sorry.” 

Composing himself, Arthur turned to the other knights. “Help me carry him outside.

The other men bent down and hoisted Merlin onto their shoulders carrying his body outside into the sun. 

One of them, Arthur never knew which one, slipped and Merlin went tumbling to the ground.

Arthur was distraught. “Have you no respect?” he spat, rushing towards Merlin’s fallen form.

They all heard the gasp. A huge breath, the sort one takes when breaking the surface after being underwater too long.

Merlin was sitting up and rubbing his head before Arthur could even reach him. 

“Please, Arthur, no shouting.”

“Merlin!” 

Arthur dived on top of Merlin and planted a kiss against his lips. “You’re alive!”

“Clearly! 

“No thanks to this.” Merlin uncurled his palm to reveal a chunk of apple.

“I can barely believe it! The fables are true!”

They all turned to see who had made the statement. A young man with dark curly hair was standing with his arms folded.

“Mordred!”

“Who?”

Mordred had several blades pointing at his chest, he angled his head toward Merlin, seemingly undeterred.

“Emrys, I felt your life force fade and pass from this world but now here you are!”

Arthur was looking murderous.

Merlin reached out and touched Arthur’s arm. “It’s alright, Arthur, Mordred is a friend, he helped me escape from Nimueh the first time.”

Addressing Mordred, he added. “It’s true, she tried to kill me but I’m fine.”

“We don’t know that Merlin, she _did_ kill you.” Said Gwen. “You were dead for a while, you could have a brain injury, we should do hourly observations.”

“Emrys’ magic would have protected him from a mortal injury” said Mordred solemnly.

“What day is it?” Gwen asked Merlin, determined not to let it go.

“The day I fight back against Nimeuh.”

“You can’t do that alone.” Said Gwaine.

“He won’t be alone,” replied Arthur, “he will have six knights with him.” 

“Seven.” Said Mordred, turning towards Arthur and bowing his head. “If you’ll have me.”

“You are not leaving us behind, I have magic and can hold my own. I’m as good as any man with a sword and so is Gwen,” challenged Morgana. 

“Which way to Ealdor?” asked Arthur. 

“Your Highest, I bring you grave news. Nimueh is not in Ealdor she is in Camelot,” began Mordred.

“What do you mean?” demanded Arthur glaring at the foreign knight.

Mordred did his best to explain what had happened:

“The people grew restless when Prince Merlin disappeared and the queen was losing favour. Nimeuh accused your father of killing Merlin to provoke a war. She has murdered Uther Pendragon and taken his throne in the name of vengeance but really it’s to serve herself.”

Arthur paled, he turned his back on them all. He balled his hands into fists so tight the knuckles were beached white and his shoulders shook. Arthur did not say a word. 

The clearing was silent. No one dared to speak, not even in condolence 

Arthur uncoiled like a fern seaking the sun; his back straight, shoulders square and head high. He marched towards his friends, unsheathed his sword and held it aloft.

“Our path ahead is clear, we must rid the world of this foul creature. For the safety of our people, for the love of Camelot.” 

Getting back into Camelot was not a problem; Arthur knew where the entrances to the siege tunnels were and all the secret passages. Having three powerful magic users also came in handy.

As soon as the knights and guards saw their prince returned, the tables turned on Nimueh. To make matters worse, Merlin appearing at Arthur’s side, caught her out in her lies and her own people rallied against her. 

The battle was almost won yet Nimueh continued to blast holes in masonry but even she knew when it was time to escape.

A shadow fell across the courtyard and a loud screech was heard from the skies. A huge dragon landed, pinning Nimeuh to the ground with his claws. A heavy-set man with shoulder length dark hair streaked with silver hopped down off the majestic beast’s back: King Balinor.

Evidently, Balinor had finally got word of what his estranged wife was up to and he was not happy, especially about the part where she had attempted to murder his son.

“You will pay for what you have done, Nimeuh, you are a vain and power hungry creature. You manipulate people around you and get them to dance to your tune. No more, Kilgharrah will use dragon-fire to heat the soles of your shoes and I will watch _you_ as you’re forced to dance to my tune until you fall down dead.”

Nimeuh struggled under the dragon’s claw. “Do your worst, Balinor. You have no flare or imagination. I will bring your dreams of Albion to its knees.” She twisted and rather than attack Balinor, which he was more than prepared for, she unleashed fire towards an unsuspecting Arthur.

Merlin watched in horror as Arthur sailed through the air landing in a crumpled heap.

“No! What have you done?”

Nimeuh laughed. 

The skies darkened, the winds howled and the air crackled with electricity. 

The whole citadel turned their attention to the lone figure who was curled in a ball of rage.

Merlin’s centred all his magic, his eyes burned gold. He was Emrys, the most powerful warlock to walk the earth and his wrath knew no bounds. Merlin reached for the sky seizing the lighting like a spear and hurled it at the witch.

Nimeuh laughed no more.

The heavens opened, rain lashed against the cobbles. Merlin ran towards Arthur, falling to his knees at the blond prince’s side. 

“Merlin.” He felt someone shaking his shoulder but he pushed them away. “Merlin, calm down, he’s not dead!”

Merlin did not listen, he was distraught.

“Merlin?”

Arthur was staring at him. Bright blue eyes open and wide.

The rain stopped.

“Arthur’s alive!” 

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you,” said Morgana, swinging her rain soaked plait out of the way like a rope. “When Gwen worked the armour in the forge I enchanted it to repel enchantments and spells.”

“Oh.”

Morgana shrugged.

“That’s very clever.”

“I know. Now can you make it warm up a bit, weather boy, I’m freezing.”

“I don’t know how.”

It did not matter. Merlin’s joy on discovering Arthur was very much alive and well seemed to coincide with the sun coming out and if a rainbow appeared when he kissed him nobody was going to argue.

Arthur became king, the greatest king ever known. He successfully united the five kingdoms creating Albion and ruled with the most powerful warlock to walk the earth, Merlin.

Balinor returned to Eldor and took responsibility for being king. He finally learned to stop running away and did his best to make up for all those lost years and form a relationship of sorts with his son.

Gwen opened a forge with Morgana and was known throughout the land for her delicate but incredibly durable and strong armour. 

Mordred continued to serve as a knight in Arthur’s kingdom and Merlin could not help but be uneasy given how all the other aspects of the prophecy had come true. He had to believe they were better than puppets to fate and they could shape and control their own destiny.

Time passed and Camelot prospered. One evening, Merlin caught Arthur doing lunges and squats trusts despite already sparing with the knights early that day.

Merlin leaned against the door frame admiring his king's fine form. 

“Is this about Gwaine winning rear of the year again?”

Arthur stilled. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Arthur, you are the greatest king that ever lived. You will be remembered for creating Albion, bringing justice and equality to the world, the round table, not the shape of your backside - even if it is the fairest in the land.”

“You really think so?”

“Oh I know so.”

Arthur’s smile faded into something more quizzical. “Whatever happened to that magic mirror?”

“No idea,” said Merlin, briskly walking over to the bed and shoving something heavy under it with his foot. 

“Now how about some proper exercise?” He said, raising an eyebrow and patting the mattress.

_We will leave our couple there, in a happy place: in the midst of a golden era and the beginning of a legend._

  


The End  


[](https://imgur.com/lcYI24f)

**Author's Note:**

> I've done a couple of fairy tales now, it's fun.  
> I hope you like what you saw and enjoyed the read. The bit about the Wicked queen forced to wear iron shoes and being enchanted to dance until she dropped down dead was apparently in the original tale, other versions have her being pushed off a cliff and struck by lighting - but Disney sanitised it some what!


End file.
